Hoover Dam!
by Leelu's skittles
Summary: Harry makes friends with a giant, alien, robot. Who happens to be frozen and hidden inside the Hoover Dam. But don't worry, Harry doesn't mind the lack of response. And Megatron only seems to mind the annoying little flesh bag a little bit.
1. A kind of amnesiac

So, this is where my creative juice is being sucked to, . At one point in time, I had it on DVD and video. Except, the video was taped over and the DVD has disappeared. Which has somehow turned into an obsession. I actually stopped writing some of my other stories to write this. And now there are 2 potential chapter 3's for my 'Jumping worlds' stories. *sigh*

Enjoy, though!

Packing his clothes into a suitcase, Harry realised that, for once, a royal fuck up had paid off. Probably the only time in his life that it had ever happened but, if Harry had to choose, that was the screw up that he'd redo time and time again. Harry had jumped through the Veil of Death, situated in the Department of Mysteries, after his Godfather. Except, it wasn't a Veil of Death – or, Harry didn't think he was dead at least.

Harry had woken up on a beach, no Sirius in sight. With sand in places he hadn't known existed, water soaking his clothes and an inability to say anything about his past; he'd been handed over to the authorities. Because Harry wouldn't say anything about magic, wary of the Statue of Secrecy and being seen as a lunatic, had been confused about the date because, you know, Harry had jumped in 1996 and had landed in 2002, hadn't wanted to bring up the Dursleys in case they still existed in whatever world this was, he'd been labelled an amnesiac.

Which was great, actually.

With no memory, the only expectation was to try and get it back. So, occasionally, Harry would say something, and everyone would be happy because he'd remembered something. The people at the orphanage were really nice, and Harry felt stupid for never running away from the Dursleys to an orphanage. He'd been told all sorts of horrible stories about orphanages, and had believed them. Which was, without a doubt, stupid. When had the Dursleys ever been truthful?

The Orphanage was nice, the people were kind, and there was a strict set of guidelines that were obeyed, the government checked up on the kids in the Orphanage and there were so many laws in place to make sure that horrible things that happened in the stories (and had, probably, happened once) did _not_ happen.

Harry wasn't even upset about never getting adopted. He didn't really want _another_ family, he'd had so many through his life, that the possibility of getting – and then losing – another one wasn't very appealing. The Matron of the orphanage was very kind, anyway, and had once majored in science. She'd helped Harry catch up on all his school work, and Harry, unsure of how to connect to his muggle cohorts, had thrown himself into his school work in such a way that even Hermione would have been envious of.

And, somehow, at the end of his school career, he'd been given a job offer. From the government. Harry hadn't planned on ever working for the government (any government), and had actually wanted to travel the world a little bit before he started on the next leg of his life. He would have actually gone on to college and continued to learn. But the thing that had convinced Harry to accept the job offer, was that he got it on his own merits.

Not because he was _'Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived'_, but because he was Harry, no last name, who'd come first of his class in science and was facing the possibility of a scholarship.

They honestly wanted him for his brain.

And it was great.

So now Harry was packed, ready to leave the orphanage and start his new job, accommodation supplied. Harry threw identification papers on top, which explained his lack of birth certificate, before caressing the slight bulge, just underneath the interior of the suitcase. He'd hidden his wand there. He could still use magic, there was just no need to. There was no Voldemort, no Death Eaters, no Wizarding world and (best of all) no Dursleys.

Clicking the suitcase shut, Harry looked at the room which he'd occupied for the last three years. It was nowhere near as expensive or elegant as his dorm at Hogwarts, but it was his home. Harry didn't feel sad about leaving, though, because it was just natural progression. The circle of life.

And he wouldn't miss his roommates snoring, that was for damn sure.


	2. Hoover Damn!

Okay, O've decided that none of these will be shorter than 500 words, but will more than likely never break through the 2000 word mark.

++.++

Harry was shocked, that was for sure. It was a robot. A huge, apparently alien, Merlin be damned _robot_. If Harry had been a normal boy, who'd grown up watching movies and someone who hadn't been a part of the magical world, he'd probably be hyperventilating and in complete _awe_ of the giant fucking robot. Because damn, Hoover Dam, it was a giant and an alien and a robot, but Harry wasn't a normal man and, at nineteen, had been working for Agent Simmons long enough that he didn't want to give the dick the pleasure of seeing his amazement.

"Neat." Was all Harry said, hands in his pockets

"Neat?" Was the half shouted reply, and Harry nodded. Yeah. Harry didn't let any of the satisfaction show on his face. His time at the Dursleys had proved useful for something in this world. He'd been on his high school's track team and was able to keep a brilliant poker face.

"N.B.E 1 is more than _neat_." The way he spat the word out made it seem as if the word, simple as it was, was physically repulsive to him. Harry felt proud, not that it was hard to rile the man up. In fact, it was pathetically easy. Which was, in part Harry supposed, why it was so fun.

"The N.B.E 1 is a prime specimen of alien…" And Harry drifted off, he'd heard this speech four times already. Once when he was in an office, after he had signed the confidentiality agreement, once in a car on the way here, and twice on the walk through the building. The man spoke of the N.B.E 1 and how brilliant the design was, how important it was to modern technology, how much time, energy and money had and was still being poured into the project. And, of course, how he was in charge of it all.

Harry nodded along politely as his boss rattled off his list of duties. Harry was glad he would get paper work going into specific detail, because he wasn't paying too much attention. Harry was too busy staring at the 'neat' alien. Alien. Holy fuck, this was amazing. Harry could just imagine the look on Hermione's face. Everyone was running around in lab coats or suits, and Harry felt decidedly underdressed but unless he wanted to break out the tuxedo he had worn to his prom, then he'd stay in worn jeans and an old, ratty shirt.

Continuing with his tour of the facility, Harry continued to pass important people in suits and scientists. Maybe he would break out the tux… Harry shrugged internally. He had never really cared about his physical appearance. The matron at the orphanage had always despaired at this, bemoaning the fact that he never cut his hair – even though it grew so slowly it almost never seemed to grow. Three years since his last cut, and his hair barely brushed his chin.

Papers were pressed into Harrys arms, and then a key card and a small scrap of paper with his pass codes, which he was ordered to memories and burn. Harry smiled at the man, promised to return in time for his next shift, and headed out of the facility and to his new apartment. He needed to sleep and ponder on the fact that he'd be studying an alien. And food, he needed food.

Food first.


	3. NBE 1

The dam was quiet at night. Or at least, it was silent of any human activities. Harry was one of the only people in the place, the others being reclusive scientists who probably did not even leave their workstations to eat and the security. Harry had thought that the place had been frustrating to get into during the day – but it was ten times worse at night. As if to make up for the fact that all the scientists and technicians weren't filling the inside space up, they triples the security.

For now, it didn't bother him too much but Harry knew that once he'd worked here for a while, it'd become a bitchy exercise in tedium.

Harry studied the Alien.

N.B.E 1.

Harry had been assured that the _thing_ wasn't conscious. _It_ was barely alive. Harry thought all the scientists were crazy. Harry could practically see the power vibrating through the massive being, could feel wave after dizzying wave of … something pour off the alien. It wasn't magic, Harry knew that much. Magic didn't have such an effect on Harry. He hadn't noticed it earlier, but now that he was alone, sitting close enough that he needed a jacket, the waves of energy were slamming against him.

The raven haired man had no idea how they all got the idea '_barely alive._' If that was a meagre power output, then Harry wasn't sure if he wanted to see a normal one. The alien might be unconscious, but Harry had personal experience that '_unconscious_' and '_barely alive_' were two very different things. How all the instruments had missed the massive energy output, Harry had no idea.

Harry wasn't sure if it was only because he'd been denied anything even remotely related to ambient magic for so long, or if the beings energy really was that euphoric. Harry wondered what the security guards in the control room were thinking if they were watching him through the security cameras. Having to shift around in his chair, all hot and bothered, from just looking at an alien robot. They probably thought he was just another geeky scientist, watching his wet dream become reality.

And, to make it all the more embarrassing for Harry, it wasn't even a girl alien robot thing. Sure, all the other scientists were completely sure that the alien was gender neutral. _It_, _thing_. There was no talk of _it_ being a _he_. Harry, craning his head back to get a better look at what Harry supposed was his face, could see a definite masculinity. Even through the ice that encapsulated him because of the freezing liquid nitrogen, Harry could see broad chest plates that were definitely not tits.

Although, Harry supposed alien races had no need to conform to humanities version of sexuality so, for all Harry knew, he was staring at alien breasts – they could be large by alien standards, but somehow Harry doubted it. An alien male, exuding what Harry could tell was power, was making Harry question his sexuality.

Closing his eyes and sighing, Harry decided that he'd think upon how weird he was when it wasn't two thirty in the morning, and instead flicked through the sheets he'd been left by the day shift scientists.

'_The Alien has roughly the same output of energy around its entire body, save for a spot in the middle of its chest cavity. I have concluded that this is, possibly, where the heart or brain resides. I am unsure if the slightly humanoid outer appearance is mirror by the inner workings of its body, as to do an autopsy would be impossible with the amount of liquid nitrogen that must constantly submerge the creature. To stop the freezing liquid, the thing could possibly return to consciousness which may prove to have disastrous results as we do not, at this time, have the proper resources to subdue N..E 1 if it were to break free..._'

'_N.B.E 1 continues to be unresponsive to various electro-shock treatments. Its various readings don't change, no matter the varying voltage, except for the occasional jump in the area around its chest cavity. This, however, is only ever the slightest rise in energy output, barely a whole joule, and only ever when the voltage is raised past…_'

'_From the samples we've managed to take of N.B.E 1's hide, we have found that it is composed of a meta-organic structure, like nothing ever seen before. The hide loses its glossy sheen after a prolonged period of time, which I conclude is the equivalent of the death of that particular piece of hide. I have yet to find a way to decompose the hide, but have found that it is extremely hard and resilient, even after the 'death', but I have successfully penetrated it with…_'

Harry didn't really like the way that the highest the scientists ever put N.B.E. 1 in the food chain was an animal. Harry thought the obvious conclusion would be 'higher than humans', as the robot was the reason most modern technology existed. Then again, humans didn't like to be lower than another race, as proven by the wizarding world and their constant prejudices. And, from the various reports, it didn't even sound like they respected the alien.

From the somewhat (supremely) intimidating pattern and colour scheme, Harry concluded that the alien was probably a warrior. Unless the race of giant alien robots were like butterflies, all those bright patterns because they couldn't actually fight…

Yeah somehow, Harry highly doubted that.

Harry could just imagine if N.B.E 1 had been found in a different time. He'd have been revered as a god. Sacrifices would've been made, people, animals, small villages.

N.B.E 1 looked like the kind of person (being? Alien? Robot? Overlord?) who would've enjoyed the carnage.

Now, though, he was frozen, hidden in a dam and exuding waves of power that was making Harry hard.

Harry sighed once more, shifting in the chair he'd commandeered, shivering slightly from the cold wafting around, Harry swore he'd find a way to become immune to the cold, even if he had to use his long dormant magic to do it. And, while he was at it, he'd find a way to ignore the waves of power. No one else noticed them, and they didn't act like an aphrodisiac for anyone else who worked here, so Harry would build up a resistance.

Or get fired for dry humping the giant alien robot.

Wouldn't that look good on his next resume.


	4. Megaman

I am so amazed at the response to this story. 14 faves, 29 story alerts, two C2's, over 1000 hits. Wow. Thanks guys.

**oOo**

"So." Harry had been working for the government for a week. Going through all the notes, Harry was in awe of the alien. So much technology, so much advancement! All because of one small (fucking huge) discovery. Hell, the man had even helped in the area of science. And Harry liked science. Harry could wrap his head around it easier than magic. With magic, people didn't ask _why_. If someone did the answer was '_magic_.' And gee, wasn't that informative?

With science, though, people did ask why. And they got answers.

Or found them.

With science, there were answers, with magic there was only the word 'magic' – as if that explained everything. And, in a way, it did. Which annoyed Harry. The newly graduated man also like science because it was so removed from magic. No painful memories of the friends he left behind, or of Sirius, no thinking about how fucked his original world might've gotten without him.

"You know, I can't just keep calling you N.B.E 1. That's a fucking crappy name. And referring to you as 'it'… well, I don't know if you can hear me, but it seems pretty rude." Harry tilted his head to the side. What names could he make up?

"Well, you're rather large. As in, you are a giant alien robot. You're super huge, uber huge – you're mega huge! A Mega man." Harry cackled for no reason whatsoever, before continuing.

"And you kind of remind me of that movie, Tron. You could be Megatron. Except, that's a shitty name, and you only vaguely remind me on Tron – the only connection is that the waves of power you exude make me hard, and watching that guy in the skin tight body suit in the Tron sequel does as well." Harry sat bolt upright for a second, realising what he'd just said.

"Oh man, I am _so_ gay." Harry groaned, slouching back into his chair.

"I can't believe it's taken me this long to figure it out! I mean, the times I've kissed girls I haven't felt anything. Kissed Cho, I described it as wet and felt uncomfortable. Kissed a girl at my senior prom – she had large breasts, and my only thought was that they pressed against my chest in an awkward way. Was subsequently molested by her older brother when I was dragged to an after party, which is probably when I should have clicked to the fact that I was gay." Harry rolled his eyes, looking back to the robot.

"But what can you do – Denial ain't just a river, man. But anyway, now that my personal revelation is out of the way, we – I – have to get you a name. I think I'm gonna buy one of those baby name books, because Megatron has got to be just about _the_ gayest name I've ever come up with." There was a small beep from one of the machines, and Harry bolted up, papers scattering to the floor as he rushed over to the machine and carefully recorded the energy spike. It had come from the beings eyes, which had never happened before.

"Bitchin', mate! Looks like you're in for the new name plan." Harry chuckled as he returned to his chair to further document the energy spike.


	5. Names

"Bob?" Harry flicked through the book of baby names. He'd completed all the assigned reading, becoming so enthralled that he had missed sleep and meals, but once he'd finished he'd bought the book. He'd done the relevant checks when his shift had first started, waiting politely to the side as some of the day shifters puttered around, finishing up some stuff, before he had commandeered what had become his chair. For the night hours, at least.

During the day hours, it served as someone else's chair. It was soft, with the air of a well loved chair, and Harry could jus sink into that chair and never get up. Harry always took it from the same desk, as soon as he was alone, and liked to think that the chair preferred the night, with only Harry and N.B.E 1 for company.

Their one sided conversation must have been much more amusing than stuffy scientists disrespecting a giant alien.

"No, Bob isn't a proper name for such a might Alien as yourself. What about Paul? I like the name Paul. Spelt like Saul, with a P." Harry nodded, really sophisticated like, before a smile quirked the edge of his lips.

"No, that won't do either. David? Nope. You'd crush a soccer ball. And the players. On second thoughts, I think you should play soccer. Nasty sport. Dudley loved it." Harry paused again.

"You don't look like a fat slob of a child, too fat to do much more than use his own weight as momentum. And I imagine that, when you move, it doesn't look like a retarded whale trying to flop back into the ocean. Which rules out Dudley and Vernon."

The flick of some more pages.

"Arthur? No, no, you don't look like a balding, redheaded man with an obsession for all things normal. Which also rules out Vernon again, coincidentally." Harry half closed his book, fingers stuck into various pages, keeping his places.

"Actually, for all I know, you could be the alien robot equivalent of middle age and balding. I think they have a cream for that now. They have a cream for a lot of things. Boils, pimples, warts, erectile dysfunction…" Harry paused, tilting his head.

"Actually, I'm pretty sure there _isn't_ a cream for erectile dysfunction. Although they do have things for that, just to let you know. It's nothing to be embarrassed about, lots of men have trouble performing in the bedroom. I don't, but I'm sure you're still very manly and whatnot." The robot didn't move, not one inch, but Harry suddenly got the feeling he was being glared at.

Which was odd, to say the least.

But Harry just grinned cheekily, he'd positioned his chair in such a way that the giant could see his face if he were conscious, and continued to rattle off names. It was almost like he'd never mentioned anything out of the ordinary but, occasionally, he'd snicker.

Really, who wouldn't when face with Harry thoughts? He kept seeing an embarrassed giant alien robot in one of those erectile dysfunction places, many embarrassed, occasionally angry, human men loitering about and trying to be inconspicuous. And then the giant alien robot slides up to the reception desk and asks, hurriedly, if he can make an appointment.

"So, was that a no on Paul, because I really like the name." Harry continued to flick.

"What about Beatrice? It's a very nice name, sure it's a girls name, but you'd look very pretty in a dress. Or a skirt. You'd make a beautiful transvestite. Smoking. Or a nice hooker. I'd pay for you." Harry cackled, and there was the feeling again. Like the unconscious alien robot was trying to vaporise him, but just didn't have a way to do it.

Harry was glad, he liked his one sided conversations. He didn't have many friends. The fact that he counted a frozen, giant, _alien_ robot as a friend, when he was _unconscious_, spoke volumes about his personal skills.

"What about Red? It's a very nice name, one apparently very popular with truckers."

The rustle of book pages being turned.

"Ooh, what about Peter? I can just see you as a High King of Narnia, battling the White Witch to bring peace to the long frozen land of Narnia. Or, even better, zipping around in a pair of green tights – leading the Lost Boys with a feather in your cap!"

"Speaking of feathers and caps, what about Yankee? Sure, you look like the type of guy who would've fought with the Confederates and for slavery, but hey! Don't hold a grudge."

"Clancy? – No! I've got it!" Harry smiled widely.

"Barbara. You look like a Barbara."


	6. Cold

I seriously think I love you all. In the creepy stalker way, and everything! But don't go for your mace, I promise I'll just content myself with your loverly reviews. They're all making me so happy, and they're really funny. And everyone currently reading this story, even if they're not reviewing or reading this a.n, gets my creepy stalker love. As 50 cent once said, I love you like a fat kid loves cake.

0o0

Sitting in his apartment, Harry had the windows closed, blinds drawn so that no light – and no heat from the sun – penetrated the room. The air con was cranked up, or down, so that Harry was shivering. And he was sitting next to the open freezer. Why? Harry was trying to do some magic. No, magic doesn't need freezing conditions to work, because that would be annoying and inconvenient - not to mention utterly ridiculous. Harry was stripped down to his underwear and turning blue because he worked better under duress.

With no spell books or any way to learn new spells, Harry had to get creative.

And when Harry got creative, bad things happened.

Harry waved his wand, practically stabbing himself in the eye, before continuing to wave his wand, thinking desperately of not being at all cold, of being able to withstand extreme temperatures, of not being seriously harmed by liquid nitrogen.

After waving his wand about a bit more, slamming it into the freezer door, stabbing his arm, thigh and kneecap so hard they bruised, cursing bad things about magics mother and almost snapping his wand by slamming it into the ice of the freezer, Harry suddenly didn't feel cold. Harry stopped, before turning around and shoving his face into the icy side of his freezer. Harry could feel the cold against his skin, or rather, he could feel the ice, just not at the temperature it was supposed to be. To Harry, the ice felt … well … it didn't exactly have a temperature. It was just there.

A grin slid onto his face as he shut the door, before going to turn off his air con.

He only had to wait for half a day before he could go and test out his new spell. Thankfully, he already knew how to bypass the muggle security, Hermione had mentioned how to do it a few times – Harry had never thought to press her as to why, exactly, she knew how to bypass expensive security systems.

Looking back, Harry decided that plausible deniability had been his best asset. '_Hermione, an evil genius? Never! She's too sweet and rule loving._' Which wasn't a complete lie. She had been, once. But she grew up, realised that underneath all the books she was a woman and, as such, inherently evil. Harry had seen her work her evil magic before. And not the '_here's a wand, I'm a wizard'_ type of magic, but the '_I'm a woman, do what I tell you_' magic.

One tight, low cut top, short skirt, a casual leaning pose against a desk, quick flutter of the eyelids, and Hermione had conned a new, young, teacher into writing her a pass into the restricted section. Harry still couldn't believe that the teacher had been conned by his fifth year student, because Harry was pretty sure there were laws against leering at your student like that. Well, there were in the muggle world. Or, this muggle world, at least. Harry had wondered why she would use her feminine ... gifts ... for something so mundane. But then Harry remembered something that was so crucial to this particular case of evil.

She was still Hermione.

So, really, using everything at her disposal to gain access to restricted learning material was not that hard to imagine.

But Harry could so see her ruling the world.

At least, after a revealing, albeit one sided, conversation with his delightful little science project, Harry knew why he'd never been affected by Ginny and her evil ways before. Not being entranced by breasts or long curvaceous legs, he'd been practically immune. Though he had been trapped a few times by some very crafty words, by both Ginny and Hermione.

With a chuckle, Harry flopped himself down onto his bed. Really, there had been so many signs that he wasn't heterosexual, but he'd ignored them all. Everyone had. Because really, the Boy-Who-Lived couldn't be gay! That would be an outrage. Well, to the women and homophobes. Harry was quite sure that the gay wizarding community would've thrown a party. Harry would have liked to attend; he hadn't been to an actualy party since - ever, actually.

Harry, after celebrating his success by shutting his freezer, grabbing a drink and de-glacier-ing his home, jumped into his bed. That night was his night off, but he was still going to sleep through the day because, really, it would through his nocturnal body clock off otherwise. Besides, Harry wanted to go explor Mission City in his time off. He'd arrive by public transport just before sunset, and wander through the darkness.

And yes, Harry was perfectly aware that there were 'night time dangers', but Harry was pretty confidant he could handle whatever Mission City threw at him, would be glad to deal with muggers and gang members. That was as much of an adrenalin rush as Harry got, nowadays. No Dark Lords or Death Eaters to face, no mytical competition, dangeous animals or break and enters to feed his addiction.

Of course, when he eventually witnessed the giant, alien robot war that Mission City would become battle ground too, suddenly delinquents and night wanderings didn't exactly feed his adrenalin junkie ways.


	7. The story so far

Hello, lovers! Er, I mean, I haven't been stalking you. This chapter is dedicated to all my lovely reviewers. And, apparently, my creepy stalker love isn't so creepy, in fact it appears to be wholeheartedly returned. Gonna have to work on that? Regardless, your reviews make me laugh like some type of hyena on crack. But you still all get it, my creepy stalker love that is. Honestly, your reviews always make me smile – go read each others reviews, they're entertaining. Hope my Megatron is passable – I don't know if it's conveyed through the internet, but my experience as a giant alien warlord isn't that great.

1900 words – oh yeah, kept inside my limit. Just.

Lots of love! Go read chapter now.

**oOo**

Megatron had regained consciousness many years ago. Confined to a hellish life of a scientists wet dream. There was nothing he wanted more than to break free and destroy all of the pitiful squishy life forms, so underdeveloped and insignificant. He wanted to kill them more than he wanted the All Spark.

He didn't even have the reprieve of closing his optics to block all the creatures out, and the blasted cold had made it so that taking his optics offline was a task that depleted so much of his energy. And he needed to save that energy so that, when the time came, he could crush their puny fucking skulls beneath his feet.

And then one day, decades after he'd regained awareness, a small squishy thing – Megatron thought they might've been called human beans. He didn't get why; they did not resemble beans in the least – walked in beside one of the males of the species who regularly came to admire him. He was a slimy specimen of a human, and Megatron could not wait for his destruction.

But the flesh bag beside him, also a male, was different. From him, and every other squishy.

There was something different about his energy output. All the humans had pathetically small energy signatures, barely anything more than their body heat, but this one… this small male, probably not yet at the end of his maturity, was different. Wave upon wave of power flowed through the room from his small frame, and Megatron snapped his attention to the male.

The power was so different to the all spark, and yet it was just as energizing.

Maybe this little squishy could be the key to unlocking the prison cell he was trapped in, night and day.

Hopefully the squishy would find a way to be in his presence alone for an extended period of time. He would have to find a way to communicate with the male, and then either manipulate or intimidate the male t his way of thinking. Either way would do, as long as the end result was his freedom.

He would make this pathetic planet tremble before his might.

**OoO**

Megatron had discovered the true meaning of the saying be careful what you wish for.

That squishy, the male who practically saturated the air with energy with every breath he took, was his new night guardian. It was fine for a week. The male stayed silent, looking over sheets of paper, and Megatron observed him, gathering his energy slowly so that he could make contact with the squishy flesh bag.

And then the _thing_ dared to talk to him.

"You know, I can't just keep calling you N.B.E 1. that's a fucking crappy name. And referring to you as 'it'… Well, I don't know if you can hear me, but it seems pretty rude." The voice penetrated through the layers of ice and liquid nitrogen clearer than the others. Their voiced were always muted, muffled. Megatron was glad, because he didn't have to listen to the pathetic, backwards ideas of a world so unadvanced it practically hurt.

But this flesh bags voice was crystal clear. Light, tenor, happy. Megatron wanted to rumble back, wanted to see fear tear across the small face as his deep baritone rumbled through the cavern where they kept him. But he could not respond.

He did, however, wonder what N.B.E 1 stood for. He had never before heard the term.

"Well you are rather large." Megatron did not move, but he rather felt like smirking. Of course he was large, he was a great warrior!

"As in, you are a giant alien robot. You're super huge, uber huge – you're mega huge! A mega man." The squishy, who was giving his ego a rather nice stroking, started to cackle. Megatron was curious as to whether the heightened energy levels of the squishy had altered his mental state.

"And you kind of remind me of that movie, Tron." Megatron was unsure as to what a movie was, exactly, but had a vague idea. If only he could connect to whatever this primitive planet had in place as an information network – he would be less bored, and be able to understand some of the things and references that he was unaware of.

"You could be Megatron." The warrior cast an appraising eye over the small being. He was very astute, this little one was. He would be a good resource-

"Except, that's a shitty name, and you only vaguely remind me of Tron – the only connection is that the waves of power you exude make me hard, and watching that guy in the skin tight body suit in the Tron sequel does as well." The male sat up straight in his chair, and Megatron wondered if his anger could be felt.

How dare this small squishy insult his fine and noble name? When he escaped, Megatron would make sure the this male flesh bag new his name – Megatron would make him scream it.

"Oh man, I am so gay." Megatron was unconcerned with the pathetic appearance of this squishy, and had no recollection of why gay meant.

"I can't believe it's taken me this long to figure it out! I mean, the times I've kissed girls I haven't felt anything. Kissed Cho, I described it as wet and felt uncomfortable. Kissed a girl at my senior prom – she had large breasts, and my only thought was that they pressed against my chest in an awkward way. Was subsequently molested by her older brother when I was dragged to an after party, which is probably when I should have clicked to the fact that I was gay."

Megatron would have frowned if he could. From what he could decipher , this squishy male had just, right then, discovered his sexual orientation. It did not make sense. Did not all species figure out which way their affections leant when they were still young? Too old to be a sparkling, but not old enough to be a warrior?

Or maybe that was this flesh bags age. He was, after all, different than the rest of the adult human flesh bags.

But Megatron, the ice cold leader of the Decepticons (figuratively and literally), did not want to injure a sparkling.

But this flesh bag was not one of his kind, was not a Sparkling, so he should not feel bad about maiming him.

"But what can you do – Denial ain't just a river, man. But anyway, now that my personal revelation is out of the way, we – I – have to get you a name. I think I'm gonna buy one of those baby name books, because Megatron has got to be just about _the_ gayest name I've ever come up with."

Oh yes, this was not a Sparkling he had to protect, this was a disgusting flesh bag who he would enjoy completely dominating – not only had he just insinuated that Megatron was some sort of baby in need of a naming day, but he had applied his silly human notions to his great and powerful name.

Just because Megatron liked to interface with males, he should not be so obviously insulted because of it. After all, had not this squishy just declared himself to be gay? This thing was confusing, and Megatron wanted to burn the being with his gaze alone.

Something in the cavern emitted a sound, and the squishy rushed over to it. A sly smile graced his small features, and he let out a laugh.

"Bitchin', mate! Looks like you're in for the new name plan."

Oh yes, Megatron would enjoy playing with this small, insignificant sack of flesh when he was finally free.

**OoO**

The Brat, as Megatron had come to call his new squishy, was playing on Megatrons last nerves. No, no, that's not true. He was Riverdancing on the last, threadbare, nerve that Megatron had managed to maintain during his captivity.

"Bob."

"Paul."

"David."

Constantly Megatron was assaulted by names taken from a naming book – obviously this species was uncreative. It was relentless – Megatron was sure that this was punishment for starting the war that consumed his home world. Oh, how Megatron would repent if only this thing stopped chattering on at him.

Sometimes it was as if the thing was perfectly aware that Megatron was conscious, and said things just to rile him up.

Megatron wasn't ashamed to say it was working.

"Actually, for all I know, you could be the alien robot equivalent of middle aged and balding. I think they have a cream for that now. They have a cream for a lot of things. Boils, pimples, warts, erectile dysfunction…" Megatron trained his optics carefully on the not yet adult bean, and wondered how the things always seemed to get side tracked from his original thought process.

Not that Megatron was complaining, the fact that this thing kept trying to name him was most distasteful.

"Actually, I'm pretty sure there isn't a cream for erectile dysfunction. Although they do have things for that, just to let you know. It's nothing to be embarrassed about, lots of men have trouble performing in the bedroom. I don't, but I'm sure you're still very manly and whatnot."

What.

That small, insignificantly little _thing_ did _not_ just imply that Megatron could not interface properly!

Megatron tried his hardest to convey all the hate within him through a glare. He couldn't move, couldn't make facial expressions, and he just wanted to move his foot and squash the little worm.

He couldn't, but not from lack of trying.

It was decided.

That little thing would be the first to feel his wrath.

**OoO**

The squishy flesh bag in front of him was different tonight.

It was not the young bean, who was barely past the age of a sparkling, with waves of energy that pulsated against Megatrons spark. This male, old and almost decrepit, was the one who had come before.

This males hair was not the colour of untouched space, but whitened with age. His soft exoskeleton – that was not even a proper exoskeleton, these stupid creatures hid their skeletal structure behind their soft, easily breakable flesh – was sagging and lines with wrinkles of age.

There was silence.

The thing did not chat amicably at him.

It did not look at him with awe.

Its pheromones did not jump erratically.

Megatron wanted his squishy flesh bag.

Now.

The silence was deafening.

He would not even mind if his squishy called him by his despicable new name, Barbara. Well, he would mind, be he would no longer try and set fire to the male with his gaze. Maybe.

But that wasn't the point! Why was his squishy not here? Would he no longer be keeping vigil over Megatron? Had he lost his chance to communicate with the energy filled squishy flesh bag of a bean?

No!

He refused to accept it. Megatron would save his energy and, next time he saw his squishy, he would find a way to communicate, regardless of whether or not there were other disgusting beans were watching or not.

Megatron needed to get out so he could crush this pathetic planet and, to do that, he needed the squishy who could almost be comparable to an organic All Spark.

And if his squishy bag of bean flesh did not return, Megatron would not be pleased.


	8. Meanwhile, in a bar

_Okay, so. I was kind of hyperventilating at all the love I'm getting in the reviews – as in, completely loosing my marbles over it – and then I got a review in Spanish. In Spanish. Holy fucking shit – I can't even – it was amazing. I had two options, email my friend the email (she speaks Spanish) or Google translate. I am, by nature, lazy. Google tranaslator it was. _

_And it was a nice review. You, you nice piece of Spanish you, are amazing. _

_Thank you for all your reviews! I read every single one of them. So here is me responding to reviews. Normally I hate when authors do that, but I'm a hypocrite and I'll make it quick. Not using names, hopefully you all remember what you wrote. Or just skip ahead – they're not really important to the story EXCEPT! __**Harry was not there because he had the night off! **__Remember the end of chapter 6? Harry was thinking about going into Mission City? There you go, use that badly damaged CPU of yours! I mean your brain, silly, don't go back a few chapter! _

_Here goes – Sorry you're home sick, hope you get better, glad you like my story, yes I am wondering how to keep up to date with Megatrons p.o.v w/o rehashing everything, hugs back, thankyou x infinity to everyone. Yeah he's forming an attachment, but is too stubborn to see it for what it is yet. Yep Megatron mistranslated being to bean. I do love Megatrons mind, I have no schedule because I'm a super lazy dude but I appreciate you thinking that I'm organised and I'm very glad to be original. _

_Yes Megatron said some dirty things, but he wasn't thinking like that – everyone else was, though. Thankyou twenty billion times more, Harrys back next chapter, I want him to defrost soon too. As for AU or canon ending to Megatron… sorry sweetheart, can't skip ahead. Spoilers. How the bloody hell do you do a musical note\heart in a review? That blew my mind. Glad you like it. Distorted crushes for the win. Thankyou, thankyou, thankyou, I;m actually a mental asylum escapee, I now want to paint a picture of Dory on Megatron, SPANISH!, oh gods, I miss Jazz something fierce. _

_Thankyou for reviewing, normal nonreviwer, Megatrons a bit possessive, Definitely going to finish this – I'd feel really shitty to leave a story unfinished, Megatron loves his squishy very much. Don't worry, you should hear some of the sentences that come out of my mouth – pretty sure if you're a fangirl you have no sanity – and I'm glad you thought that my Megatron was robot like in this thinking. Probably going to steal that idea from your review, with Megatron and Harry bickering in front of everyone. _

_Ha! Imagine Megatron singing 'just keep swimming…' Missing Harry very much. Next update is now. Thankyou. _

_Also, just to let you know, very tempted to not actually have any story in here and just piss you all off. But then I'm too nice – no wait, that's a lie. But I have people, apparently, waiting avidly for the next chapter. And I have a reviewer who speaks Spanish. That blows my mind. Cameo by a certain Spanish speaking soldier, just for you!_

_Espero que esto traduzca bien - traductores en línea son siempre un poco inciertos. Gracias por ir a tantos problemas para leer mi historia, yo lo aprecio. Gravemente, pienso que estoy enamorado de usted. ~ Mueca~ También, hay dos traducciones diferentes para lo que acabo de escribir, y yo voy tratar un poco loco a resolver cuál es correcto._

**NOTE: Okay I am aware that, in America, the legal drinking age is 21. I forgot. I live in Australia, and anyone over 18 can get as blind as they fucking want, yeah? By the time I remembered Harry is 19 in America, I'd already written the chapter and it's quarter to six in the morning, and I haven't had any sleep and I fucking swear Slender man is standing behind me. **

**Also, can you guys spot your cameo? It's in there somewhere. Look for the word cackling and witches. Hehe, lots of love. **

**oOo**

"And then she shays, 'Look, I don't know if you shpeak English, but if you take another step, I'll mace yer face.'" Harry listened, amused, at the bar. There were two men, both older than him, who were retelling the story. They were, very obviously some form of military. There was a black man, and a Hispanic man, and they were both just past the tipsy mark.

The taller, darker man was speaking loudly, slurring his words as he retold a tale of his friend getting sprayed with mace.

"And Fig here, he just keeps going on in Spanish. I don't know what the hell he says half the time." The man mumbled, shaking his head before taking another drink.

"Hey man, the chicas love it when a guy can serenade them in another language." Fig said, leaning back against the bar in a way Harry supposed might have been appealing to someone. Somewhere.

"Sorry to tell you, mate, but being sprayed at point blank range with mace generally isn't a good sign." Harry said with a laugh, and Fig laughed as the man he was with cracked up laughing.

"Cállese, el idiota!"

"English, man, English!"

"Shut up, Epps!"

Harry smiled and took another sip of his vodka. The two certainly made a brilliant comedy duo. But maybe Harry could make it a bit funnier…? The glass covered his wicked, slightly deranged, smile.

"So, how long are you two in town for?" Harry asked, and Epps shrugged.

"'Till tomorrow, then we're shipping out." Harry nodded.

"To where?" Epps signalled for another drink, and Harry wondered if that was a coincidence.

"Qatar."

"I hear the sun is nice over there." Harry said, and Fig grumbled.

"There's sun in Miami, too. Why don't we ever get deployed somewhere with beaches and beautiful, bikini clad women? Like Hawaii. Or the Caribbean?" He asked, his accent giving a fun rhythm to his speech that was only slightly impeded by the alcohol he'd been drinking.

"You could have gone to Miami." Epps said, blinking a few times before taking a drink. He was either dinking water or vodka. Harry wasn't confused as to which one.

"I had to have my wing man accompany me, and he wanted to go to Mission City." Fig said, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah – who else is going to help you hobble away from the less than five foot nothing woman who probably weighed less than a house cat that sprayed you with mace?" Harry laughed at the description of the woman. She sounded fierce.

"You two are so adorable." Harry said, and two sets of eyes snapped to him.

"What?"

"¿Qué?"

"Oh, sorry, I always forget about DADT. You two are still really cute together, thought. But I won't mention it again. Sorry." Harry said, taking another drink so he wouldn't cackle at the looks on the face of the two military men who were, Harry was pretty damn sure, straight.

They both stumbled over their words for a minute, ever second word out of Epps mouth a curse, and every third out of Figs was in English.

"Were not together! Don't Ask, Don't Tell doesn't apply to us."

"¡Ninguna manera de mierda, hombre! And even if it did, I wouldn't be with _him_!" There was a moment of silence after Figs half shouted statement, and Harry desperately fought the urge to laugh.

"Excuse me?" Epps asked, raising an eyebrow at his team mate.

"What?" This just kept getting better and better. Harry was pretty damn sure he wasn't the only one amused by the conversation. There was a group of beautiful women in one corner of the bar, eyes and ears trained on Harry, Epps and Fig. Harry got the feeling they would start to cackle at any second. They were definitely filled with evil woman magic – worse than actual witches, Harry was quite sure.

Ravenous hyenas.

"What do you mean you wouldn't date me? I'm an attractive guy!"

"Not really."

"What! What do you mean not really?"

"I mean, hombre, that I've seen better looking men than you."

"You ain't nothing special, either, man. I think it must be genetic." Fig frowned at Epps' dig.

"What was that?"

"I just mean your Mama has more facial hair than all the members of ZZ Top put together."

"What!"

"Her dick's bigger than yours too, she seemed a bit embarrassed for you when I fucked her last night –" Fig jumped up from his chair, enraged.

"You shut your mouth about mi madre! She wouldn't touch you even if you begged!" Harry placed his empty glass back on the bar and leant back, watching as the two tore into each other with words. Harry had really only wanted to fluster them, maybe cause a bit of mayhem in their lives.

Now, though, they were standing toe to toe and looked as if they wanted to beat the life out of each other.

And all this over the fact that Fig apparently isn't attracted to Epps.

Don't Ask, Don't Tell doesn't apply to us my lily white arse.

Harry was quite sure that if the two team mates attacked each other, they'd be fucked when they left for Qatar the next day, and the integrity of the entire team was then put at risk. Bloody fuck, nothing was ever easy, was it? The questions was, now, how to diffuse the situation?

Harry had no plan when he approached the still verbally abusive men, all he knew was that if he didn't put a stop to this before it started, no one else would. And as fit as Harry was, as deceptively strong as he was, there was no way he could take on two heavily muscled army men and subdue them.

"So this means you're single then?" Harry asked Epps, and the black man nodded, eyes still glaring into Fig.

"Excellent." Harry pushed Fig to the side, not at all surprised at how hard it was to move the tightly muscled man, reached up and grabbed the back of Epps' neck, dragging his head down to meet his own. Epps' mouth was open in shock at being man handled, and Harry swiftly took advantage of that to practically shove his tongue down the older, taller and stronger mans throat.

Two large hands grabbed onto Harrys waist and pulled him closer for half a second, Harrys breath catching as the mans tongue stroked back for half a second, before he was being pushed away. Harry stepped away easily, not needing to be told his advance was unwanted, and knowing when he'd instigated it that it would be.

But not, apparently, as unwanted as Harry had originally thought.

Harry could see the blush staining the mans dark complexion.

Fig was standing there, mouth hanging open. All the anger was gone from him, replaced by shock. Situation successfully diffused. Looking back at Epps, Harry couldn't hide a smirk at the mans still open mouth. Harry turned back to the bar, very happy with himself. Not only had he stopped what may or may not have been a massive fight from taking place between two good friends, or team mates at the very least, but he got to kiss an extremely attractive man.

Take that, more than slightly twisted desire to get it on with a giant, frozen, alien robot!

Harry downed the last of his drink, and pulled out his wallet to pay the bartender, but the man waved him off.

"On the house. They would've done some damage to my bar if you hadn't stopped them." Harry smiled, putting his wallet away and thanking the man. Harry turned to leave the bar, he had to catch a late night public bus to get back to his apartment so he could sleep before work the next night, but was stopped by Epps.

"Why'd you kiss me?" Harry turned back and chuckled.

"Because." The man scowled.

"That's not a reason."

"Yes it is, just not a good one." Harry had played this game with his orphanage room mates, when he'd first moved in. The mans expression became stormier, and Harry rolled his eyes.

"I did it because I could, because you're single, because even though your equally attractive friend there can't see the fact that you're hot, doesn't mean I don't." Harry said, and the man blinked. Harry walked to the door of the bar, before looking back.

"Nice to meet you two, by the way. I'm Harry." Then Harry slipped out the door, chuckling at the wave of Spanish that followed him out the door.

"Necesito una bebida."

Harry would have to remember that, and find an internet translator later. It seemed like a handy phrase to learn, what ever it meant.

Maybe Barbara spoke another language. Probably, since Harry doubted that giant Alien robots spoke English. Maybe Harry could learn giant alien robotanese? He'll just have to find a good teacher. Maybe Barbara could teach him.

Except Barbara was frozen in ice.

That was a problem.

Maybe Harry should unfreeze Barbara?

Probably not, he'd get arrested and gaoled and probably slapped with a few thousand fines and be black listed and never work anywhere again ever and his life would turn to shit.

But on the other hand, Barbara did seem kind of sad in the ice…

No, Harry - no thinking of freeing the giant alien robot who may or may not try and kill every thing human because of his imprisonment and set out for world domination.

Although, maybe the sacrificial offering of Agent Simmons could appease him? Maybe Harry should do that, regardless…?

Nah, Harry would keep that delightful little fantasy for next time the bastard tried to talk to him. Thankfully, on the skeleton shift of night work, Harry rarely saw the man. Harry barely saw anyone but security men. They were actually all really nice – Harry was thinking of baking them cookies.

Maybe Barbara knew other languages? Maybe Harry should try talking to him in different languages to see if the big guy would respond? Yeah, that sounded like a good idea.

Yes, yes, yes.

He would have to learn how to say many inappropriate things in different languages, just so he could get under Barbara's hardened meta-organic exoskeleton.

Without Barbara, Harrys life would be so much duller.

Poor Barbara.


	9. Betty Crocker

_Ah, last chapter, I remark so fondly of it. Originally, Harry had just been in the bar to beat a few people up and regale Megatron the next day with his maad skillz, but then the two drunkards had turned into Epps and Fig, and then Harry decided he was far too celibate – and then boom! Harry partially molests a not so unwilling Epps. Hehehe, several scenes have sprung from that one. Thanks to all my reviewers! Another lovely Spanish review, as well as some very funny ones in English. Love you all!_

_Note: McCarthyism – spread through out America (and elsewhere) during the Cold War; basically a fear of communism, the reds, the Soviet and basically anything related to that. People went a bit weird. _

_Ьы говориту по-английски? - __Do__you__speak__English__?_

_Вы прекрасно выглядите.- __You__'__re__very__attractive__._

**нож****целовать**

Harry munched on a cookie he had left over. The cookies had been heartily appreciated by the guards, and Harry had even had one left over. Chocolate chip, still a tad warm, and delicious. He'd already refused to share his secret recipe with Barbara, honestly, the nerve of him to even think of asking for this long held family recipe was simply – yes, Harry did use the Betty Crocker packet mix, however could you tell?

"So, what did you do last night? Lonely without me?" Harry asked, flicking through a printout of Russian words and phrases. He was going to randomly yell them at Barbara and see if the big guy responded. Maybe he simply hadn't spoken to his captors because didn't speak any English.

If only Harry had stopped to question Fig about Spanish, then Harry would have had a head start on this whole 'contact with alien life' thing. Harry, though, was satisfied with how his night turned out.

"Well, I had fun at least. Went out to a bar, used my fake I.D provided by this lovely secret government sect and drank some nice alcohol." Harry pointed his finger at a random phrase in his hands.

"Ьы говориту по-английски?" Harry waited for a second to see if Barbara did anything. The robot had no idea what his squishy had said.

"Вы прекрасно выглядите." Harry continued, a small smile curling the corners of his mouth. Harry sighed, and placed the pieces of paper down.

"That's a no to Russian, then? Probably a good thing. If you started to speak Russian, I'm pretty sure McCarthyism would make a swift come back in the ranks of Sector 7." Harry chuckled, shaking his head.

"So while I was at the bar, there were these two men. Army. Muscled. _Delicious_. And I might have prodded them into a fight, but then I diffused it by kissing one of the men." Harry said, a slight blush staining his cheeks.

Megatron halted his processors, momentarily imitating the ice that bound him, before he instigated a partial reboot.

His squishy had done _what_.

Megatron, as out of touch as he was with the Human world, was perfectly aware what kissing was. Not something often practiced by either Decepticons or Autobots, but he was aware of the gesture nevertheless.

And his squishy had kissed another disgusting, pathetic bug who called this primitive planet home. There was no way that his squishy had such bad taste that he would willingly exchange such an intimate action with someone other than him-

Er, there was no way that his – THE – squishy had such bad taste that he would willingly exchange such an intimate action with someone who was not deserving of it. Megatron decided that that second sentence was much more appropriate and correct, before fighting the ice to frown.

The ice won, but the feeling remained.

There was simply no way that his delicate little squishy would wish to indulge in the bean form of interfacing with people of his species. Surely he was aware that all the beans on this planet, baring himself, were long overdue for a good extinction? He would not lower himself to the despicable level of those mud monkeys – there must be some sort of miscommunication.

Maybe his squishy had a glitch in his comm. system?

Yes, surely that was it. His squishy had meant to convey that a pathetic bean had forced a kiss from him, and had merely muddled his words. Megatron would, upon escaping this pit damned ice, find the pathetic creature who had dared to defile his squishy so and kill him.

"He was drop dead gorgeous as well. Dark mocha skin, defined muscles, handsome face. The man could pressgang me any day. Actually, I think you can only get press ganged into the navy. Oh well!" Harry continued on, lost in his mind as he thought about the brief encounter the night before.

Epps _had_ been sex on legs.

"And when he pulled my closer -"

Harry was cut off by a monitor going off. Once again, Harry got the feeling that he was being glared at. Maybe Barbara didn't want to live vicariously through Harrys sex life, pathetic and non existent as it was? Harrys was still better than being frozen in liquid nitrogen, though, so he couldn't see why Barbara was complaining.

Harry, for once, was wrong. It was not him who the glare was aimed at, Harry merely happened to be the only on in the vicinity.

Megatron would not just kill the pathetic, squishy human bean that had touched what was his.

He would break him – rip the spark right from his wretched body!

And then he would have to punish Harry for speaking of the man with such an obvious enthusiasm, which would be a lot easier if he could just figure out how to communicate with his Primus damned squishy.


	10. Theories

_The start of his, where Harry vocalises his theories, was actually written before at least half of the previous chapters. To let you know, I only have a few scenes written already, and everything else is basically adlibbed to fit when I decide to update – which is why the chapters are so short, incidentally. Everything that gets posted is pretty much the 'first draft' with a few word rearrangements and a spell check. I hope you like Harrys theories – I had a lot of fun thinking of them. Thankyou for all your emails and to Astyan Delacroix and Shade of Midnight that was my spelling mistake, not the translators. I always hit the wrong key. But thankyou for letting me known my English to Russian phrase book is completely untrustworthy, and no your correction wasn't annoying. And OH MY GOD homemade brownies. They're the positively best brownies ever. But fear not, life did get in my way - but in a good way! I am now the proud owner of a boyfriend. Er, I am now dating someone is what I meant. Thankyou for all your reviews.  
><em>

**oOo**

"I've got it. You're a giant alien gigolo, who came to Earth in hopes of expanding the ranks of your army of giant alien bitches. Except, you were unexpectedly backstabbed by the chief whores number one client, who shoved you in the ice then promptly took over your empire and left you on Earth to die whilst he returned to your home planet with an army of alien robot bitches at his command." Harry nodded, seriously, before giving in and laughing.

It had been his mission, for the past little while, to figure out what had brought Barbara to Earth. He'd been through all the usual 'world domination' and 'exploitation of our natural resources' and 'genocide.' But they were all boring and expected, so Harry was having fun imagining up all kinds of things that could have found him frozen in arctic ice.

"You were having kinky robot alien space sex when something went horribly, horribly wrong. Your companion jettisoned you, and you crashed into the ice. The reason you haven't woken up yet is that you're still in denial about the harsh rejection. I mean, we all know you've got problems being sexual with people, but to know it's bad enough that your bed partner throws you into a planet? That must hurt your ego, your male pride."

Harry chuckled, and Megatron silently fumed. Not only had _his_ small squishy kissed another pathetic excuse for a life form, which he had rubbed it straight into Megatrons face plates, but he hadn't been able to communicate with this squishy. The ice encasing him was too thick for him to physically force himself free, and the circuits running through his body were chilled to the point of inaction as well. It wasn't as bad as the temperature of space, though, so if this fragging ice would just melt, he'd be perfectly functional and able to destroy the pathetic bean who had touched his squishy.

And the rest of the human race as well.

His squishy would have to be corrected, though. He seemed to be fixated on the fact that Megatron could not interface – He was not sure whether his bean meant that he could not physically interface, or that he could not do it well. Either way it was false information, and Megatron would have to update the processors of his squishy.

Megatron did wonder, however, how he would do that.

His squishy was a bean, and so small. If Megatron tried to interface with the male, his squishy would probably fall into his spark chamber!

Megatron froze mentally, his processors temporarily matching the state of his body for the second time in as many days when it had not resembled such for many years. He had just thought about interfacing with his squishy. The small, pliable male bean that looked so fragile with no exoskeleton and more than likely addled processors that belonged to the despicable race that inhabited this primitive planet.

And Megatron had been contemplating ways to interface.

Not that it wasn't a valid question, after all, how would one go about breaching the large species difference? He'd probably have to find out how the species interfaced, though he was aware that it was similar to how the little creatures apparently procreated. Megatron wasn't sure what this would mean if he tried to interface with his squishy, as his squishy was a male and would likely try to dominate the interfacing, which was something that Megatron would not allow-

No.

Megatron gave his processors a reboot; he would not think about interfacing with his squishy. If he continued to think about it, Megatron would have to do something drastic like delete the thought from his processors. But that would not be a feasible idea, because it would likely take with it some information about either interfacing (which he was rather excellent at by the way) or his little squishy, and Megatron did not want to lose any information about the amusing, though infuriating, bean.

There really was no trying to deny it. He wanted to interface (many times) with his squishy.

He, Megatron, the leader of the Decepticons, destroyer of races, skilled warrior, wanted to interface with the small, male human bean who had been employed to watch him and who called him Barbara.

Frag it all to the pit.

Harry, however, was oblivious to the inner torment of his favourite icicle, Barbara. Harry was still blabbing on about theories on why Megatron was on Earth. His current theory involved the robot mafia, witness protection and, oddly enough, an orange.


	11. Pondering

_This is kind of just a filler chapter; I've had it written for a while but didn't know where to fit it in. Here will do, I guess. And also, I am saying __**Bean**__ on purpose, instead of __**Being.**__ That's just Megatron not grasping the human language fully. Once he connects to the internet he will, more than likely, fix his misuse of the word. And Harry will be mightily confused as to why he's being called a bean. _

…

Harry had once wondered if his existence in this world, this world, was a dream. A figment of his imagination. He'd slammed into the side of the Veil and was now in a coma, conjuring up a new world where he had none of the pressures of being Boy-Who-Lived. If that were true, when he woke up from his coma Harry would not be a happy camper. He'd probably go into a rage, and then try to find a way back to the imaginary world.

Moreover, if that was true, Harry was going to find Fate, Destiny, whoever, and beat that fucking bitch _down_.

Sometimes Harry wondered if it was not this world that was false, but his previous one. Some deeply buried delusions of grandeur giving him a fantasy world where he was so important that he got a crappy, hyphenated title with the fate of an entire people resting on his shoulders. But then Harry would look at his wand, feel the magic, and realise that there was no way that his Earth was an illusion, or delusion.

And there was no way he was fucked up enough to actually _want_ to be the Boy-Who-Lived.

Unless he was in a mental asylum and _both_ worlds were delusions. Which meant he was probably, currently, drugged to the gills, restrained in some way and had retreated into his mind, where he'd conjured up alternate worlds to amuse his fractured psyche.

But he was so-o-o-o not going there.

He told Barbara about it anyway

Megatron had been confused, as he knew not about the other world that his squishy had come from, but he understood the idea of thinking that this world – this existence – was false. He had wondered that occasionally, travelling through space and once, in a rare moment of conscience when he'd wondered if he should be destroying a planet.

Of course the crisis of conscience was quickly dealt with. He was Megatron, not some weak willed Autobot. After all, if this universe was not truly real, where was the harm in destruction and death?

But he understood his beans philosophical dilemma, and hoped that soon he would be able to convert his processors to an entirely hedonistic way of living. By Megatrons side, of course.


	12. Now, for something completely different

_And, in this chapter, your dear author remembers the fact that she does, in fact, have a brain. You might notice the return of a plot device that I planted surreptitiously in an earlier chapter. I had almost forgotten about it until I realised that, hey, how was I going to get Harry and Megatron to communicate again? Oh yeah. I remember. _

_Once again, thankyou to everyone who reads. And puts up with my crappy updating. And reviews. And even casts me a disdainful mental glare. Run at me Bro – No! Don't actually! I have allergies. Hehehe. No I don't, but don't run at me regardless. Seriously, don't do it. There's a computer screen, some wiring, and the entire internet between us. Do you want to hurt your computer? No, that's what I though. Argh, just read already and stop encouraging me!_

…

It was time. Time to use his magic. Harry had blocked and looped the security cameras so that the security guards wouldn't see anything different, and now it was time to get a proper look at Barbara. Pulling his wand out, Harry waved, jerked and twirled his wand. He'd refined the technique since he'd first discovered it, you see, and therefore, had stopped being a menace to himself.

Now he was only a menace to others.

Sliding his wand back up his sleeve, Harry approached the giant, ice covered robot. He couldn't feel the cold and, hopefully, wouldn't be affected by the liquid nitrogen at all. Harry walked closer and started to scale the giant ice wall that was Barbara's leg.

Harry had a rest just below the hip joint, tilting his head to try and get a better look at Barbara beneath the ice. Unfortunately, even if Harry could see through the ice, all he would've seen was a giant codpiece. So Harry continued to climb, grumbling and bitching the whole way about climbing – well, in-between his wheezing breaths.

He was a runner, not a climber.

But he persevered and, eventually, reached Barbara's face. Distorted as it was through the ice, Harry still found it pretty intimidating. Red eyes glowing like hot coals – Harry swore they were looking straight at him.

"What are you doing?" The voice was a deep, gravelly baritone and very dangerous sounding. Harrys head snapped over his shoulder, and he gazed down in horror at the man standing there. His hair was black and styled in severe spikes, facial features angular and sharp. His shoulders were broader than Harrys own and Harry was sure, if he weren't currently scaling a giant robot, Harry would also be taller.

His eyes glowed an unearthly red.

"Climbing." Harry supplied, quickly scurrying down the ice.

"I see. Small squishy human bean, I am Megatron." The man announced once Harry had two feet back on the ground. Harry raised an eyebrow at 'Megatron.'

"Right. And I'm a monkey."

"You certainly do not look like a small primate." Harry sighed, shaking his head. He wasn't even going to try and explain that.

"Look, you can't be in here. It's restricted."

"I wish for you to stop calling me Barbara." Harry blinked.

"What?"

"It is not my name, small squishy, and I do not appreciate it." Harry raised an eyebrow.

"I've never once called you Barbara!" Harry exclaimed. This man was obviously deranged. How the hell did he even get in? Didn't the guards know that two deranged people in one room was a bad thing?

"You started after you decided to name me, and thought that Bob and Paul were not sufficient. I was not aware that your central processing unit was damaged to this extent." Harry blinked once, twice, and a third time just to be sure.

"You're…him?" Harry said, pointing up at the frozen robot.

"Correct."

"You're Barbara?"

"That is not what I have been named, but for the purposes of this conversation, yes." Harry took two steps to his commandeered chair, and collapsed into it. The human, who was actually the robot, walked towards him.

"How is this even possible?" Harry asked, and Barbara – or should he start calling him Megatron? – stood inhumanly still in front of him.

"I had been contemplating a way to communicate with you, but the ice had frozen my circuits and rendered it impossible. When you touched the ice, however, the strange energy that emanates from your body had increased and wound its way through the ice and into my circuits, enabling me to make this holoform." Harry nodded, vaguely grasping the concept that his magic had allowed the robot to make a holo-form? Was that a hologram?

How sci-fi.

Harry stood up and reached his hand out. He wanted to satisfy his geeky dreams and know what it feels like to place your hand through a holoform. Harry had expected it to feel a bit like a ghost. Maybe he'd feel heat, and it would be like sticking his hand in front of a projector. Maybe it wouldn't feel like anything. That would be disappointing. He hadn't expected his hand to hit a solid chest. Harrys eyes widened as he realised that a holoform was not a hologram.

It was solid.

Holy crap, this was just as cool as a giant alien robot.

This was the giant alien robot.

He could speak to the robot!

Oh man, if Simmons knew about this…

Harry cackled at the thought of pulling one over on his bastard of a boss.

"Are all human beans this strange? You make that sound often. Is it a form of stress relief so that your small, inadequate processors do not short circuit?" Harry blinked, and then scowled. He whacked the holoform on the shoulder.

"Quiet Barbara, I'm cackling."


	13. Caring is Creeping

_Bah. I have my trials right now, and my major B.O.W due in a week. I'm totally fucked. But here's your next chapter. Be happy, people, as I'm completely ignoring the internet in favour of trying to draw four huge fucking portraits of the horsemen of the apocalypse. I've only completed one. Shite. Crap. Wanker. Bloody, buggering bullocks on a stick. I want to tell the HSC live up to its mums name and become a whore. Except I'm not even sure if the HSC has a mother. _

…oOo…

It had been a fortnight since Harry had discovered Barbara's holoform, and Harry was quite sure that, as cool as the holoform was, it was still bloody creepy. Barbara never blinked. Ever. And he stood impossibly still, like he'd been hit with a spell. Harry would walk into his job, alter the security cameras and then Barbara _– for the last time squishy, call me Megatron! –_ would materialise.

Harry would jump, as Barbara – _for the last time yourself, Barbara, how many times do I have to tell you that there is a thing called __**personal space**_ – always appeared ridiculously close to Harry. As in, Harry would have been able to feel Barbara's breath on his skin. If, you know, Barbara actually breathed.

He didn't by the way.

Apparently, holoforms did not have the same internal structure as human beans did (Harry had been mightily confused as to why he was being referred to as a bean, until he had realised that Megatron had mixed bean and Being up, and had proceeded to confuse Barbara and cackle a good while) and thus the need for breathing was eradicated.

There was an awkward silence, on Harrys part at least, while he slouched in his commandeered (not stolen) chair, and Megatron stood deathly still and just stared unblinkingly at Harry. Seriously. That's almost all the projection of a giant alien robot did. Harry wondered why.

Megatron, however, was concerned for the health of his squishy. He did not ramble on incessantly, and Megatron had come to find that it was actually more distracting to hear silence. That in itself was a conundrum. He could do nothing to fix his squishy, however, if he was unaware what was wrong. So he watched his little bean closely, carefully, to see if there was anything noticeably wrong.

Nothing appeared, however, and so he continued to watch his squishy. Every night would be the same routine. The bean would walk in and address him by the severely improper name of Barbara, and Megatron would request to be known by his appropriate and designated name of Megatron. Harry would roll his eyes and ask for personal space.

It was, of course, a request which Megatron would not give as he detected the slight changing of scents in the air that told him his squishy found his holoform psychically attractive. Megatron could not see the appeal. It was just a regular human form. With the brief boost of power he'd received from Harry, he'd been able to temporarily connect with the internet, and he'd morphed his holoform into the body of the first male human specimen he came across which he could see unobstructed from the bathetic cloth garments.

There had been an unclothed female bag of flesh, but Megatron would not change his Primus given gender. Unfortunately, if he wanted to keep manifesting his holoform, he couldn't connect to the internet again as it drained the power accumulating in his core at a deplorably fast pace.

He would have to enquire about this world through his squishy, then, but his squishy was ill and did not wish to talk. So Megatron waited and, eventually, his squishy did find it within himself to face whatever ailment which tormented him and use his vocal processor.

"Why the bloody hell do you keep staring at me?" Harry growled out, after becoming thoroughly fed up with the stalker like staring.

"I am assessing you for any illness or injuries which you might have sustained whilst you were outside of my optic range." Megatron said, and Harry quirked an eyebrow.

"What? Why would you do that?" he was confused. The giant robot…thought he was sick or injured?

"Your recent silence, compared with your previous inability to halt speaking, had made me positive that something must have detrimentally affected your health, be it physical or otherwise, and as such I am monitoring you constantly to see what ails you and, proceeding that, what I can do to help cure or relieve this trauma." This was spoken in a cool, detached tone of voice and it took Harry a few seconds to comprehend the words, as he had to wade through the detachment and erotic sound of the holoforms voice.

When he realised what had been said with such clinical detachment, both his eyebrows rose to meet his shaggy fringe.

"You were…worried about me? About my health? Because I wasn't talking?" Harry smiled bemusedly. Imagine if he'd walked in with a limp one day or, Merlin forbid, an actual visible injury. Maybe Barbara would try and give him a full medical examination. He kind of spoke like a doctor, too, or like someone with a dictionary shoved into their brain. Harry wouldn't mind Barbara giving him a medical examination. Hell, he wouldn't mind a serious breech of doctor/patient conduct.

And damn it, now he wasn't only thinking about getting off to a giant metal alien robot, but to his holoform to. And wouldn't that just be a severely kinky, and fucked up, threesome.

Though Harry would admit that lusting after the human construct would actually be more socially acceptable.

He almost snorted at that thought.

Since when had he ever cared about being socially acceptable.

"Of course I was worried." He replied, unaware of the distinctly … unbecoming trail of Harrys thoughts, though he did detect the spike of arousal on his scanners.

"Why?" Harry asked. After all, what could this alien robot want with him? What could be the reasoning, the logical reasoning, not the shitty, magic based reasoning, behind this?

"You are my squishy, my human bean, and as such you are my responsibility. I shall not have you damaged in any way under my care, though I fear that your mental capacities might have been previously stunted given the way you act sometimes." Harry laughed, cutting off Barbara. Megatron didn't mind too much, as he wasn't sure how Harry would have reacted to his next statement of '_Also, I would be displeased if you were less than healthy when I use this fleshy body to interface with you_.'

"That is pretty much the sweetest, if not the most possessive, thing I've heard for a bloody long while." Harry gushed and stood up from his chair. He didn't even have to take another step forward to reach Megatron, the holoform had been standing so close he was now pressed flush up against Harry. This was, lucky, however, because it made pulling Megatron into a hug easier.

"You are ridiculously adorable, Barbara."

Megatron scowled, even as he hesitantly lifted his arms to embrace his squishy in return.

"I am not adorable, you imbecilic flesh bag, I am Lord Megatron, Leader of the Decepticons, and I am to be feared. His words didn't hold any real heat, though the husky timbre of his growl did make Harry shudder a bit (Megatron was confused, was his squishy cold?, until he registered yet another spike of arousal) as he vaguely wondered who the decepticons were, and whether his Lordship or Megatrons would hold more weight in this world.


	14. Where is that medic?

_**I have returned, of faithful minions. I have just finished high school, my HSC, and all the exams that go with it. So I shall be going to all my beautiful monsters who like to tear through my mind (my stories) and updating them. Since I don't really have snything to do, and everything creative has come rushing back, you all get updates. **_

..x..

Megatron was … not scared. He was merely anxious. Very anxious and worried about his squishy. His poor little squishy companion who seemed to be in possession of bad wiring and an inclination to cackle and whack him on the shoulder. This surely wasn't normal behaviour of this species. He watched the other squishies, in their white shells, and they did not act as such.

They hunched and concentrated. And occasionally exclaimed.

But not as much, or as exuberantly, as his deranged little squishy. His squishy was partial to the phrasing, completely bonkers, but Megatron was so for unaware of what that meant. Once he was able to link to the pathetic and crude mechanism this species had in place, called the internet, permanently and without a major drain on his power supply, which would stop him from communication effectively with his squishy, then he would search for the meaning of his phase. Until then, all his information came from his troubling little squishy.

Sometimes, like now, Megatron got very worried. The squishy had not stopped laughing since Megatrons statement. It was constant, loud, and Megatron worried that if he did not stop soon, then whatever unstable processors the boy relied on would fracture even further.

There was not anything which Megatron could think of that would have drawn this reaction. And since it was not something which he said, then it must be the males own failing faculties. Megatron wondered how it is that he could convince the small thing to see a medic; one who could investigate his central units short circuiting. He had never been particularly skilled in those things, though he would not willingly admit his own…ineptitudes.

Besides, he needed a minion who was fully capable to help him escape.

Harry, finally, stopped laughing, though he did continue to snigger.


	15. Bricks of Cheese

_Hello! I've replaced the notice of temp. hiatus b/c of fire with this. Thank you everyone for your support and kind words. No one was injured during the fire (probably should have included that, before) and we're piecing our lives back together. The kindness of people has been so overwhelming that I might just have to give up on misanthropy. Seriously, though, people are awesome. I got sick of doing nothing other than being depressed, so I got off my tush, or rather relocated it, and here is the new chapter. Sorry if it's not up to par. This is the first of many, for all my stories, which will be updated over the next week. Hugs to all of you._

…

Laying on his bed, Harry wondered if these sorts of things happened to everyone, or just him. Lord Megatron, leader of the Decepticons. Harry had finally figured out what that mean, via questioning Barbara. He was the alien version of Voldemort, complete with dorkily named cronies. And yet, knowing this, didn't stop any of the attraction Harry felt towards him. How weird. Harry was quite sure that, if it was Voldemort he was crushing on, he would feel all types of dirty and wrong.

But this _Lord Megatron_ was just Barbara.

It was a bit hard to feel like he should hate Barbara when the alien was apparently so socially awkward. No concept of personal space, constantly asking questions that weren't voiced in polite society, seemingly unable to grasp the basics of human social interactions. He was just adorable, to put it plainly. Not physically adorable; because there was nothing adorable about either of his forms. Hot, attractive, muscled, broad shouldered …er, no, there was nothing adorable about the physical aspect of Barbara.

There was just something about him which made Harry feel protective. And wasn't that just fan-bloody-tastic. He felt protective of a giant alien robot who had urges of genocide towards his species. Why did these things always happen to him? Honestly. It was getting frustrating. Neglected childhood to being ridiculous famous and loved by an different world. Jump through a veil to find his godfather, end up in a magicless world.

Severe and utter hatred for a genocidal fucker, to being in love with an alien genocidal fucker.

Brilliant.

Wait, love?

Oh Merlin, he was going to rot in whatever served as hell for this world. Unless, he was in hell. Which actually explained a lot, to be frank. At least nothing would ever come of his sick infatuation. If he ever got together with Barbara, or his holoform, it would be wrong. Like Superman and Lois Lane – okay on the surface, but once you actually thought about it… just no.

Seriously – he was an alien. By some freak chance of the universe, he looked like a human. _Looked like_. His internal structure should theoretically be completely different to hers; it's like a form of bestiality if you think about it. And guess who's the animal. Lois Lane. And, using the same method of thought, Harry would be the animal in the relationship. Brilliant.

Harry rolled over, scowling at the world in general. It was just his life that he was infatuated with an alien. And not even an alien like Clark Kent who could pretend to be human. Megatron was so far from humanoid he was a brick. A metal brick. Made from cheese.

Harry sat up and threw some clothes on. It was daytime and he was heading out. It would be hell on his nocturnal lifestyle, but he needed to pace and think and swear and be psychotic. He needed a small children's playground.

…

Or not. He just needed someone to vent to. Unfortunately, he had no one he really knew, or could talk to. He didn't have any friends. Except for his old instructor, but Harry shouldn't bother him with such petty troubles… Fuck it. He was going to go and annoy his old neighbour; for old times sake, of course. Luckily the man had moved closer to Mission City. Harry would have to dust off his bike to get there, though.

As he walked out the door, Harry only had one comforting thought.

He could still check himself in at the nearest mental asylum.


	16. What problem?

_**Ah, I was so optimistic that I'd be able to crank these out. Oh well, they're coming. Slowly but surely. I've been a bit distracted by A Song of Ice and Fire, its T.V show and, you know, my eighteenth birthday. Was awesome. Didn't throw up everywhere. Went out for the first time, three different joints in one night. I got stamped and felt happy. I hope you also feel happy – so go and read.**_

"So, what's the problem?" Harry let out a wordless cry and let his head fall against the table he was sitting at. The man sitting across from him laughed heartily at his distress. Harry grumbled into the table about stupid old men, which only made Imi laugh all the more. Harry had known Imi since about a week after he'd moved to the orphanage. The man had lived a few houses down, and had saved Harry from a young man trying to mug him. Imi had stepped in, and subsequently gained a loyal friend.

He wasn't quite normal, however, so Harry had his hands full. For instance, Harry had just explained his entire situation, leaving out the specifics of Barbara being a giant alien robot, and Imi couldn't see the problem. Maybe he'd see the problem if Harry explained the entirety of the situation. Imi used to work for a government, he never specified which, doing something, he never said what, so there was a chance that he would believe Harry.

There was also a chance that Harry was being watched by some spook from Sector 7, ready to kill him the moment he spoke a work and breached his contract. The spook wouldn't succeed, especially not with Imi there as well, unless he was a sniper, but then he'd probably lose his job anyway. And he was not leaving Barbara alone for an extended period of time.

"We've been through this five times, Imi! I'm in love with a completely crazed man with delusions of grandeur and a severe need to annihilate the human race, and you can't see the problem." Imi raised an eyebrow.

"It is obviously only you that see the problem. Has he killed anyone?"

"Not that I know of." Harry narrowed his eyes. Imi was a tricky bastard and if Harry wasn't careful, he'd end up losing this argument. And Harry wasn't even sure when it had turned into an argument.

"Or hurt anyone."

"Not that I can think of."

"And his delusions of grandeur, do they hurt anyone?"

"…No."

"But he shows a level of interest in your health and well being?" Harry leaned back, and cocked his head.

"What's your point?" Imi smiled.

"He likes you to, my friend." Harry was stunned speechless. Completely, undeniably wordless.

"Huh?" Imi laughed, and Harrys blank expression melted into a scowl.

"Not funny, Imi." Imi's laughter died off.

"Who is being funny? This man, he likes you."

"How could you possibly know?"

"Ah, I am a world weary old man, Harry. I know much." Harry was unimpressed.

"You're barely thirty."

"Then stop calling me old!" Imi demanded, but Harry just chuckled.

"Seriously, Harry, this delusional, homicidal maniac sounds like a perfect match for you." Harry narrowed his eyes and stuck his tongue out at Imi, before going for his phone where his alarm was going off.

"Got to go Imi, you should come visit me some time. Find a woman, and bring her to meet me. I am, after all, your only friend. She should know that you have at least one."

"You're a brat, brat. I don't need a woman, and if I had one I wouldn't scare her off by taking her to meet you." Harry smiled as he walked to his bike.

"Still, come for a visit one day. You have my address. And you know where I work. Well, vaguely." Imi nodded.

"It won't be soon. I've been recalled, apparently they are in dire need of my skill set." Harry quirked a brow at Imi's dissatisfied expression.

"Can't you just say no?" Imi laughed, but it was mirthless.

"These are not the sorts of people to be saying no to, and expect to live as you have been doing." Harry sighed, but decided that he wouldn't get the stubborn bastard to change his mind. They embraced on the footpath outside of Imi's house, the elder man ruffling Harrys hair. Harry himself thought that he was too old to have his hair ruffled, but didn't protest. Imi had just sat through his entire rant on Barbara.

"I still think there is no problem." Imi seemed to be able to sense Harrys change in thoughts, and waggled his eyebrows.

"You like him in a creepy way, he like you in a creepy way – you should get together. Go on a date. Have sex, try and make babies." Harry raised an eyebrow at Imi.

"We're both men. That's physically and scientifically and realistically and every other sort of adjective impossible."

"Who says you can't have fun trying?" Harry proceeded to blush bright red, and Imi roared with his deep booming laughter. Harry tried to throw off his blush by scowling, but it obviously didn't work as the laughter merely got louder. Imi would have told Harry that he looked quite adorable pouting whilst bright red with blush, but he couldn't speak through his laughter. Harrys phone went off once more, reminding him that he needed to leave so that he could get to work on time.

He had actually wanted to get home in time to catch a nap before work, but he had been having too much fun to want to leave. He'd regret it later, when he was at the end of his shift and absolutely exhausted, but it was worth it. Harry climbed onto his bike and pulled his helmet on, saying goodbye to his friend once more before he snapped the visor shut. The bike roared to a start and Harry rode off, waving at Imi.

Imi waved back to his young friend and pondered on the amusements of life. Surely the gods had been smiling on him the day Harry had stumbled into his life. The many amusements he'd enjoyed merely by knowing the man were worth every hassle. Imi walked back inside to chuckle at his younger friend. Love, how troubling it could be.


	17. Awkward abilities

_**Wasn't actually going to post this straight after the other one, give myself a bit of breathing room so that I had time to write a new chapter. But I've gotten some very nice reviews, and, oddly enough, a rabbit plushie thrown at me..., so I decided, in the interest of occupational health and safety, to throw these chapters to the wolves and hightail it back to my den. You all rock. Also, new laptop. Thank Johnny for these chapters. He's my laptop.**_

Harry could feel his heart racing in his chest, the adrenaline pumping through his veins at the thought of the near miss. Agent Simmons had just strolled into the doors, he was here to check up on how the new recruit was going. Not that Harry was all that new anymore, having been here for a few months. With a quickly wiggling of his fingers, the spell Harry had around the security cameras dissolved, and Agent Simmons was now able to be seen by the security guys. Harry was only grateful that Barbara had disappeared before Simmons had fully stepped into the room.

That could've been awkward. Although, not as awkward as the conversation he'd just been having with Barbara. The alien had mentioned something about the idiocy of the other humans, Harry had questioned him, and somehow Harry had found out that Barbara could honestly tell when Harry became aroused. And wasn't that embarrassing. The holoform didn't seem to care either way, but Harry was completely mortified. The amount of times that had left him mind to wander, only for it to arrive in a completely inappropriate place, involving said alien, were too numerous to count.

Harry, of course, tried to quickly assure the alien that he was crushing on that he hadn't been thinking about him whilst aroused. They just happened to be in the same room, whilst Harry was thinking about someone arousing. Harry had been taken aback by the sudden emotion on the holoforms attractive face. It was almost anger, but not quite, though there as some definite rage in the forms eyes. With an ominous _'We will speak about this later'_ he'd disappeared, and then Simmons had walked in.

And now he was sitting there, annoyed by Simmons ramblings, thinking about the alien he had a crush on, and they ways to stop the inevitable conversation of tomorrow night. Harry soon lost track of time, and was getting more and more tired. Eventually Simmons stood up from the chair he had commandeered, and left. Looking at his watch Harry realised that he still had another ten minutes before he had to clock out. He waited for Barbara to reappear and for their conversation to continue, but neither thing happened.

Instead Harry sat their feeling completely awkward until he had to leave. It was like a bad first date gone completely horrible. He could feel Barbara's eyes on him, and the tension mounting, but the entire thing had an anti-climax when John, from the morning shift, came in and Harry left. He felt ridiculously unsettled. Barbara was making him more nervous than the Dark Lord ever had. He simply couldn't imagine what the robot was planning, so he decided to just relax and get some sleep.

He'd need it for when he had to go into work tomorrow night.

He was not amused. His squishy had not been thinking about him? He was quite sure that Harry had been lying to him, but couldn't be sure. There had been spikes when he'd used his holoform to approach the human, but there had also been spikes in the levels of his arousal at randomised times. Both theories had evidence to back them up. The mere thought of his squishy wanting or being physically stirred by the unworthy creatures that shared the planet with him was enough to make Megatron struggle to free himself again.

It was still in vain, but he was getting stronger. He could feel it. Every time his squishy touched his holoform, or his actual form, encased in ice as it was, he felt better. He was able to move his holoform further away, and even able to reconnect to the internet for a brief time. The unusual power radiating of his unique human was helping him. Soon he'd have to ask for his human to help him escape. He had a new first thing to do, once he was released – find out who his squishy had been thinking of, and kill them.

When the other human left, Megatron briefly entertained the idea of reforming the human projection of himself, but dismissed it. At the current moment, it served him more to simply watch his squishy squirm. He was plainly uncomfortable. Once again, Megatron cursed the fact that this little bag of flesh was not a Deceptacon. Everything would be easier. Then there would be no problems of interfacing, he would be free, and Harry would have optics for no one but him. If only he knew what his exhausted little watcher was thinking about.

Then, as it always did, the time came for his little human to leave. Megatron was aware of why he had to leave, but didn't see why he had to be left with such moronic bags of flesh. Their white outer cloaking marked them as the same as the other flesh bags who'd been prodding at him for the last umpteen years. One of them was entering the room now. His squishy sprang up quickly, and went to meet the male homo sapiens. There were smiles, hand gestures and laughing.

Something in Megatrons processors came together, and he wondered if it was this pathetic excuse for a living being that Harry was aroused by instead of his own superior form. His optics were straining to narrow as the undeserving being touched Harry.

Tomorrow night he would have words with his little squishy being, and let him know that it was unacceptable to be flaunting himself thus in front of Megatron. No, it was unacceptable to do that at any time. He belonged to Megatron. Eventually his squishy left and it was only this feeble creature that remained, puttering about the work benches.

Designation John, he was on the very top of his list. He would squish the human designated John right in front of his humans green little optics. On second thought, he would make sure to kill the thing during his break out. That way Harry wouldn't even know and Megatron would not be on the receiving end of any rants. Not that he would care, even if he was. He was not subject to the little squishy bag of flesh. Why should he care if the magnificent little life form was angry with him?

Megatron was studiously ignoring how feeble his own protests were.


	18. To-Do List

_Can you hear music? Because I swear there should be some to herald my triumphant return to writing. I've been reading through reviews, and I love you all so much. You've made me very happy, which makes me write, and neither are things that I've been doing much in the past few months. My other stories will be updates shortly, but HD is the easiest to write. Thanks for sticking around, even during my absences. _

-.-

"You, my Squishy, who do you think of when your pheromones spike in arousal?" Megatron decided that being direct and demanding would get him the best results. Because of the obviously flickering wiring inside his humans head, any subtly could be completely missed and that would not be acceptable. So Megatron was in his Holoform, his larger frame almost looming over Harrys slightly shorter one. Harry blinked. That certainly was straight forwards and completely inappropriate for the work place. Harry shuffled around Barbara, who had appeared in front of him seconds before the door closed behind him, and headed for his chair.

"Personal space, my friend." He said, trying desperately to deflect the conversation. He did not want to talk about his attraction to a metal alien, with said metal alien. Harry didn't even know metal could be sexy, honestly. Although Harry had known a few people who a bit too into their cars, Harry had never seen the appeal. Harry liked his motorbike, sure, but he wasn't like, you know, going to take it out on a date.

Not that he wanted to take Barbara out on a date, because that would be disastrous. Harry could see it already. The Holoform threatening the waiter, the server, the other patrons, the chef (cause you just know he'd find fault with the food and end up in the kitchen, still threatening) and likely on the thinnest excuse. And then someone would take exception to his attitude, and people would start to die. Actually, Harry wasn't even sure that the pair of them would make it into the restaurant before someone hit the ground – dead or not. Harry didn't really think of it, but Barbara was probably a fan of death.

Harry didn't even want to think about taking that actual alien, not his human form, out for dinner.

Harry sighed as he sat down in his chair, the Holoform reappearing in front of him.

"Tell me. I wish to know what pathetic flesh bags I have to put on my list when I finally break free of my disgusting, barbaric, but surprisingly effective, prison." Harry had many thoughts about the sentence, one of the main ones being that, since he started talking to Barbara (or, since he started talking back) he hadn't thought on Barbaras situation. The one where he was trapped against his will and a science experiment. That seems like a large over sight on Harrys part. He'd have to ruminate on it further.

There was also the most important issue of, if Barbara was talking about this human he supposedly fantasised about (who didn't exist, well, if you didn't count Tom Hiddleston) that meant that Barbara was… jealous. And wasn't that an eye opener. This was obviously a result of their previous conversation, when Harry told him, quite firmly, that Barbara wasn't who he was lusting over. The alien obviously hadn't caught onto his lie, and was now jealous. Which meant, hell yes, reciprocated feelings.

The best type of feelings.

Apart from feelings with hands.

The issue he actually took up with Barbara was that of a list.

"What list?" It sounded vaguely ominous. And by vaguely ominous, Harry meant he didn't realise people sounded like that outside of bad movie villains, and Voldemort which, you know, self explanatory in relation to the bad movie villains.

"My list of people who I will kill once I am released. This person you fantasise about will be moved to the top of it, though I cannot guarantee that he will be the first to die, it will be the one I enjoy most." Harry couldn't help but chuckle. Homicidal tendencies should not be cute, ever. For some reason, it worked on Barbara – or maybe it was Harrys mental state?

"Well, what a coincidence, he happens to be on the top of my list." Harry said delightedly. Confusion swam across the projected face.

"On the top of your _'To Kill'_ list?" Megatron was unsure if the human was aware of what he was saying, or if their confrontation had knocked another wire loose. Even to him, fantasising about someone you wish to kill with thoughts of arousal did not make sense.

"Oh no, dear, the top of my 'To-Do' list." Harry smirked cheekily, but the innuendo fell flat. Barbara did not get it.

"To Do what?" He inquired, and Harry smiled. He leaned forward in his chair, face almost at a very inappropriate height on the Holoforms body.

"Well, to fuck, of course." Barbaras face clouded with anger, and Harry stood, his body brushing against the dark form in front of him. The phone on the other side of the lab started to ring, and Harry made to move towards it, pausing for a second to turn and talk to Barbara.

"But Barb, I don't know how I'm going to cross you off my list if you kill yourself." And then Harry left a baffled, but increasingly happy, Megatron standing in front of an empty chair. Harry spoke to the person on the other end of the phone for a few moments before hanging up. Megatron watched Harry with both sets of his eyes, and struggled to blink his optics despite the ice encasing him when Harry pressed a chaste kiss to the edge of his mouth.

"Simmons wants to show me something, now that I've been here long enough, or something. You'll get a different minder for the rest of the night." Megatron scowled, and Harry reached up to pat his cheek.

"Don't pout, it makes you too attractive." Harry laughed, before Megatron cancelled his Holoform so another one of those seemingly innumerable human beings in their white shells could enter without consequence.

He scowled, internally, as Harry left.


	19. Sparkling

_My god, all my other stories are screeching at me, but then act all coy as soon as I sit to write. this little thing, however, is perfectly happy to be written. The other stories should be hammered out soon. I hope. And I have some stories to beta, but I forgot for a while, but now I remember! Yay! Enjoy._

...

Harry wondered what Simmons could possibly want with him. Seriously. It was ridiculous. All he wanted was to watch his large, frozen alien, maybe soon to be his boyfriend? That would be good, even if he didn't know how well he'd go at actually dating the alien. Regardless of what happened with Barbara, he didn't want to go see Simmons. The man was actually a great big bag of dicks. But, the man was his boss, so he'd do the mans bidding. He was to meet the man just outside one of their smaller labs. Smaller being relative, of course, given the fact that they kept a frozen (semi-frozen) alien and a giant fucking cube in two of their 'larger' labs.

The well dressed man was waiting outside a door, and he tapped his watch imperiously. He turned to go in, and Harry barely managed to restrain his face from shifting into what he thought of Agent Simmons. Harry followed him and ended up looking at a large clear box. Probably made of plexiglass. Or plexi-plastic. Hopefully not actual glass, because this was science, and shit tends to go haywire when science tried to intervene in real life with its grubby paws.

Not that Harry was complaining, he loved the grubby paws of science. Just not near breakable glass.

Well, not near lots of breakable glass that could possibly explode in his direction, at any rate.

There were other scientists mulling around, looking infinitely superior. Harry had found, in his months at Sector 7 that everyone tended to act superior, bar the security guards, the janitors and a few special exceptions on the science staff. Especially towards him, seeing how he tended to be significantly younger than most of the workers. Everyone else just needed a good, hard vacation from life. Not that Harry would tell Barbara this, because the man would totally take him seriously.

Especially now Harry knew the man totally liked him too.

No, he wasn't preening, whatever gave you that idea.

"Alright people, we have our brightest all gathered here for this experiment. We shall proceed momentarily." Simmons said loudly, and people moved closer to the case, ceasing their chatter. Anderson frowned at Simmons comment, though, looking at Harry. He opened his mouth, but a combination of Harry glaring viciously at him and the experiment starting quelled whatever he had to say about Harry.

Dick.

One of the scientists put a phone into the see through box, and Harry waited patiently through the explanation. Powered by the cube, okay. Barbara once told him it was called the All-Spark. Which was kind of presumptuous but, you know, giant alien robots, so they can probably get away with it.

Harry jerked back to attention when Simmons channeled the power of the All-Spark through the wires, into the box and into the phone. For a second, nothing happened. And then the phone jumped to life, spinning around and looking at everyone. Its cute little blue eyes and absolute brilliance astounded Harry. They'd just created life. Harry had never thought it possible, outside of works of fiction. It may not be a conventional human life form, but it was life. And it was adorable and…and…Harry could feel it.

The little thing had, somehow, attached itself to Harry's magic. He could feel the little bot, it's own life force pulsing alongside Harry's own. The wizard had no idea how that had happened but it had. Harry smiled, clapping and laughing like the rest of the scientific staff. For once, he couldn't find it in himself to hate them. This miracle was too much.

And then Simmons flipped a switch, and Harry felt as the bots life was ripped away from him. He felt tears welling in his eyes and so much hatred in his heart. How _dare_ they kill him? He had been alive, happy, Harry had felt him. And now he was gone. They started to shuffle out of the room, a few to go write up the experiment, others to ruminate on the implications of the experiment. Simmons, too, left. Only Anderson and Harry remained. One to study the remains, and the other mourning.

As soon as the door sealed shut, Harry turned to Anderson, who was unaware that he was still there, intent as he was on the poor little bots body, and palmed his wand. A flash of red later, and Anderson was unconscious. Harry lifted the little bot to him, cradling the small form to his chest, and left the room. If that bloody cube had given him life, then it could give it back. Harry found that, contrary to his upbringing, he had no moral qualms obliviating everyone he walked past. They would never know he was in the cube room.

Harry clambered over the barriers to the cube. He was on a mission. He needed to feel the life returning to the little bot, or Barbara might never get the chance to level this place because the way he was feeling right now, he was one failed jump start away from a bad case of the genocides. Harry pressed the little bot flat against the cube. A ripple ran through the alien object, and Harry could feel the faintest flicker of life. But the little Cybertronian himself was battered. He didn't seem capable of sustaining the new life he had been given, blue eyes barely slitting open. The pathetic noise it emitted wrenched at Harry's heart.

He looked at his wand and wondered. He was, after all, made of metal and circuitry. It wasn't like a healing spell would do to much, but, unintentionally, another spell might. Harry gripped his wand.

"_Reparo_."

The metal started to shift, and inside the bot circuits mended.

With a chirp and a whir, the little bot righted himself in Harrys hand, sitting down and completely content. One of the stunned scientists stirred slightly, and the bot panicked. Shifting quickly into a Nokia phone once more, Harry was amazed.

And so ridiculously ecstatic.

He'd bring the little guy in again tomorrow and show Barbara his new … pet? No, not quite. That wasn't right, because he clearly had the capacity to be intelligent. Child would actually be more appropriate. Which was odd. Harry hadn't ever really thought about children. As he walked out of the facility, however, he found that he didn't mind the thought, or the new weight in his pocket.

He would think about revising that opinion when, upon becoming comfortable in his apartment, the little bot would start to eat things that were metal and electronic.

The brat.


End file.
